


When Tomorrow Comes

by MoonlightandMagnolias85



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-18
Updated: 2013-03-19
Packaged: 2017-12-05 18:33:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/726503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonlightandMagnolias85/pseuds/MoonlightandMagnolias85
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The world did not change as he hoped it would, and neither did he die as he hoped he would in the end. Left with a promise he is not willing to break, and trying to help a young woman he is not sure what to do with, Enjolras must face a different tomorrow than the one in which he'd planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter I

The day Gabrielle left Mademoiselle Gerard's School for Girls was the happiest day of her life. Sweet freedom! No more scrubbing floors in between lessons, serving the others before she could eat her own supper, and sleeping alone in the servant's quarters. There would be no more pampered and pretty bourgeoisie girls completely ignoring her (unless giving her orders), and no more studying and working simultaneously.

Despite these things which made her life at Mademoiselle Gerard's fairly miserable, she wouldn't trade her time there for anything. She now had her education; indeed, even petty Mademoiselle Gerard had to admit that Gabrielle was one of the brightest girls in the school. Gabrielle never would have been able to attend if her brother had not paid as much as he could and promised that she would work for her room and board. And now she was the one teaching. Granted, her two small charges had absolutely no interest in the things they were supposed to be learning, but she did her best to instruct them anyway.

She sternly tapped the desk where Armand, a precocious nine year old boy, was drifting off to sleep, his head slipping off his hand. It didn't work to wake him and Gabrielle sighed, smacking him lightly on the side of his head. "Armand! Wake up and get back to your sums."

The boy jumped and glared at her for a minute before turning back to the slate in front of him with a yawn. "Sorry, Mademoiselle Feuilly."

Louisa, his sister, sat quietly reading a book in a chair by the window, her lips moving rapidly as she whispered the words. Gabrielle never had to chastise Louisa, but despite Armand's occasional misbehavior and lackluster work ethic, he was her favorite. He had a warm personality and charm that would make him a leader someday, Gabrielle was sure. Even at nine years old, he could command a room.

"Mademoiselle, are you going to see your brother this evening?" Armand asked suddenly. Anything to distract from his work.

"Yes. Your sums, Armand."

Armand grinned and put down his chalk. "Are you going to go to that café? You know, where that man gets up and makes those long-winded speeches?"

Gabrielle stopped and stared at the boy. How in the world could he know about that? "Did you follow me last week, Armand?"

He shrugged and picked up his chalk, going back to his work. "I was curious. Isn't that scandalous, Mademoiselle, a young woman like you in the company of all those men?" His tone was innocent, but Gabrielle knew Armand was playing one of his favorite games – a game of control and power. He liked to have it. If he didn't become like his father, he could perhaps use it to do a lot of good one day.

"To some, perhaps," Gabrielle replied confidently. "But, my dear Armand, there are those in Paris that believe a woman like me is the equal of men. Isn't that remarkable?"

Armand didn't reply, but looked at her with curiosity in his eyes. What Gabrielle wouldn't give to introduce him to Monsieur Enjolras...

**

That night, Gabrielle and her brother, whom his friends simply called by his last name of Feuilly, hailed a fiacre to the Café Musain. Apparently, Enjolras had asked recently for them all to be on the lookout for firearms. He wanted to begin stockpiling for the eventual revolution.

"I suppose what you are all doing does come with a bit of danger," Gabrielle mused. On one hand, the danger worried her, but the young romantic in her was secretly thrilled at the thought of adventure. She knew the Les Amis de l'ABC wanted to change the face of France; the eventual outcome, they hoped, would be a revolution that would lead to a republican government and the dissolution of the monarchy. Gabrielle agreed with their views, mostly due to her brother's influence and the Les Amis indulgence with her presence at their meetings, and because she was still young enough to not truly understand the bloodshed that comes with revolution. It all seemed like a grand adventure, with real heroes and villains to be defeated.

Before long, the fiacre pulled up in front of the cafe and Feuilly and Gabrielle climbed down. Feuilly smiled, but said in self-admonishment, "What would our mother and father say if they were alive to see me taking you around such disorderly young men?"

"They would be appalled, most likely." Gabrielle smiled and shrugged. "Does it really matter whether or not I am a proper lady here?"

They entered the café, and her brother immediately led her to the back set of stairs. "You know," Feuilly grinned, "The mistress says we're much too rowdy even for her establishment. But she's really quite fond of us, and considering Grantaire alone drinks his weight in alcohol every time we're here, we do give her a good business."

They ascended the stairs and Feuilly opened the door at the top. Gabrielle had been expecting a much livelier scene, but it seemed like they were early. Only a few of her brother's friends were present.

"Feuilly! Glad you could make it." Monsieur Combeferre walked over and gripped Feuilly's hand, shaking it heartily. "And Mademoiselle, here again? You are becoming a regular staple at our little meetings."

"I'm afraid I am...I have to confess, I'm rather intrigued by what I've been hearing." Gabrielle smiled and followed Combeferre over to a table where Enjolras was furiously writing, two books propped open in front of him.

"I do hope we've lived up to our reputation."

Gabrielle laughed. "That and more. Good evening, Monsieur Enjolras."

Enjolras looked up and seem startled to see her. It seemed he was so engrossed in his work he hadn't heeded their arrival. "Mademoiselle Feuilly, I am happy to see you've joined us this evening." He avoided her eyes, as usual, and looked at a spot on the wall just over her shoulder.

Her brother sat down in another unoccupied chair and gestured to Enjolras' work. "If you aren't lecturing us about our cause, you're busy writing about it. We really should hide your books to get you to have fun every once in a while."

Enjolras smiled at Feuilly's familiar teasing and simply went back to his work. Gabrielle figured he had to have scores of patience in order to deal with a bunch of drunk schoolboys all the time.

Gabrielle was mostly silent as she listened to her brother and his friends talk and joke. She enjoyed their light-hearted company, though, and was happy that her brother had found such nice young men to spend time with. They had always had such a lonely life and her brother had worked so hard to get where he was, was still working hard every day, in fact, and he deserved a bit of fun to go along with his passionate views.

As the evening wore on, all of the Les Amis eventually came to the Café Musain. Combeferre told her that even though it seemed like Enjolras wasn't really paying attention, he would know exactly who had decided to skip the meeting tomorrow, should anyone dare. When Gabrielle asked what would happen to the elopers, Combeferre didn't really have an answer, other than Enjolras' disdain was enough to make anyone feel shameful. Somehow, Gabrielle didn't have a hard time believing that.

After a while, Gabrielle gently tapped Enjolras' shoulder and said curiously, "Monsiuer? What is it you are writing this evening?"

Enjolras looked up and laid his pen down, stretching his hands. "Well. I'm trying to write about the right of the general public to a free education. I don't know how well I'm doing," he confessed.

"A free education? Are there books already written on this subject?"

He shook his head. "Not whole books, no – bits of political theory and social law mention the idea here and there, but as far as I know, there isn't a single source. I would like to write one, eventually, as I believe education and knowledge one of the cornerstones of progress."

"When you say 'everyone,' Monsieur, who do you mean?" Gabrielle asked.

He looked at her strangely and stressed, "Everyone. The rich bourgeoisie who can take their pick of schools and tutors, the working class, and even the gamins you find on the street. Only through knowledge can mankind learn to be better and evolve."

"Do you mean women, too?"

"Yes, I do mean women, too," Enjolras said with a slight smile. "Do you think women have the right to a free and equal education, Mademoiselle Feuilly?"

"Absolutely, Monsieur. What I wouldn't give to be able to attend university lectures like all of you. When I was at school, the other girls only cared about learning enough to catch a husband. I often wondered if they truly didn't know any better, or if they really believed that was all they were worth?"

Enjolras contemplated for a moment. "That is an interesting question. Do you suppose people have a natural need or inclination to seek knowledge, or will people simply be happy believing what has been preached to them in their youth?"

"My brother had a natural inclination," Gabrielle pointed out. "I suppose mine comes from being mostly raised by him. He never let me feel less than anyone, intellectually or because we had no money."

"Your brother is a remarkable man, Mademoiselle," Enjolras replied sincerely. "He is a true believer in the cause of justice and equality. He understands the importance of a republic with elected officials and a constitution created by the people."

"Yes, he does." Gabrielle's gazed shifted to her brother, who was laughing in the corner with Monsieurs Courfeyrac and Prouvaire. She leaned in conspiratorially to Enjolras and said quietly, "Although, I must confess...the romantic in me does wish he would find someone to love. He works so hard, he deserves happiness, too."

Enjolras raised his eyebrows. "And does a man or woman have to fall in love in order to find happiness?"

"Are you always going to follow my remarks with more questions, Monsieur Enjolras?"

"Yes," he said simply. "I am a naturally curious individual."

"In that case, no. I do not believe you must fall in love to find happiness. Or marry to find happiness."

Enjolras smiled at her answer. "Do you intend to marry, Mademoiselle Feuilly?"

"Not if I can help it, Monsieur," Gabrielle said disdainfully.

"Do you intend to be a governess forever?"

Gabrielle sighed and looked down at the wooden table. "I certainly hope not. Except for the nights that I can sneak out and enjoy the company of you and your friends here, I feel very...isolated."

Enjolras leaned forward, a sign he was interested in what she had to say. "How so?"

"Well...I am not a servant. So the others will not speak to me much. I am not part of the family, so I do not dine with them..." she shrugged. "Unless I am with the children, I am usually alone in my room."

"What do you do with your time?"

"I write, usually. I hope to live by my pen," Gabrielle confessed cautiously. "So no, Monsieur Enjolras, I do not want to be a governess forever."

Enjolras smiled slowly. "A writer?" he questioned. "Of what?"

"Of novels." Gabrielle straightened in her chair. "Have you ever heard of the English woman Miss Austen? She wrote novels. And did gain some financial independence. I enjoy reading her books."

"I have heard of her," Enjolras replied. "I see nothing wrong with being a writer, Mademoiselle Feuilly. I think it rather interesting to see someone with such high ambitions."

Gabrielle smiled. "Thank you...though, I must admit, they are selfish compared to yours...you, who want to change the world."

Enjolras' eyes blazed for a moment as he replied, "Not the world...not yet. Just France."


	2. Chapter II

The Baron de Sauveterre, Gabrielle's employer, was a monarchist through and through. Gabrielle knew she had to be careful what she said around his children, as children are always wont to repeat things adults say, and Armand had already proven to be up to his usual mischief in following her to the Café Musain. She avoided the café for a few weeks after her talk with Enjolras, but she didn't mind too much. On her usual night off, Gabrielle wrote her novel at a much less raucous café closer to home. If she had any unwanted shadows, they would soon grow bored with her predictable and mundane activity.

One beautiful April day, Gabrielle found herself in The Tuileries garden with Louisa and Armand. She had acquiesced to their pleas to have their lessons there since the sun was too bright and tempting to stay indoors. They relaxed on a blanket in the grass and each child was working math problems on their little slates. Louisa's were almost as tough as Armand's, and Gabrielle teased him about the fact that his little sister was soon going to leave him behind if he didn't get serious about his studies. Today it worked to sufficiently motivate him, though it usually didn't matter.

"I'm done!" Armand said triumphantly and held his slate out for her to see. She quickly checked his work and praised him for getting the problem right. "Now, what is 2,583 divided by 53?"

Armand erased his slate and got back to work, his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth as it usually did when he concentrated, and Gabrielle grinned, turning back to her book.

"Mademoiselle Feuilly!" Gabrielle looked up when she heard her name and looked around. Coming toward her were three of her brother's friends – Monsieurs Courfeyrac, Joly, and Enjolras.

She smiled in greeting and rose, as did Armand, his math problem forgotten. Gabrielle curtseyed politely to the men. "Good afternoon, Monsieurs." They each greeted her and Gabrielle took in the books in their arms. "Are you all coming from class or going to?"

"Coming from, thank goodness. I'm happy to be free on this beautiful afternoon." Monsieur Courfeyrac smiled and gestured to Armand. "And who are your charges, Mademoiselle?"

Gabrielle put an arm around Armand's shoulders and held Louisa's hand as the shy little girl rose to stand behind her, trying to hide her face in Gabrielle's skirts. "This handsome young man is Armand de Sauveterre, and this is his sister, Louisa. These young men are friends of my brothers, Armand, and students at the university. Monsieur Courfeyrac, Joly, and Enjolras," Gabrielle said as she gestured to each of them in turn.

"Pleased to meet you, Monsieurs." Armand shook their hands seriously, but stopped when he came to Enjolras. "I remember you, Monsieur. I heard you make a speech once."

Enjolras' eyebrows rose and he glanced at Gabrielle. "Oh? And what did you think of it, young man?"

"Well, I don't think I understood most of it." Armand frowned. "But I do know you're a Republican, like that General Lamarque. My father doesn't like him."

Gabrielle winced and hoped Enjolras wouldn't be ruffled by the words of a spoiled, rich nine year old.

"I'm sure your father has his reasons," Enjolras said diplomatically, but with an icy edge to his tone.

"Well! What are you all doing out here today?" Joly interceded gaily, changing the subject.

Gabrielle smiled in gratitude. "The children convinced me they would be more productive outside today. So far they are doing well. Armand here, though, is convinced that he doesn't need to go to university someday. I think that you three would disagree?"

Courfeyrac grinned. "Educated men are much more attractive to young ladies, Armand. Though that might not mean much to you right now..."

Armand made a face at his words and Joly laughed. He began talking to Armand about the benefits of an education, and Gabrielle watched Enjolras, who soon began impatiently shifting from foot to foot. She could tell he wanted to be on his way, but while the others were distracted, Gabrielle stepped forward and asked curiously, "How are your plans coming along, Monsieur?"

"They are coming," Enjolras said cautiously. "I have noticed your absence at the last few meetings, Mademoiselle."

Gabrielle smiled, remembering what Monsieur Combeferre had told her about Enjolras always noticing who was missing from their gatherings. "I'm flattered that you noticed, Monsieur. I have been cautious..." she whispered, "since I learned that Armand followed me one night. That is when he heard you speak."

"Our meetings are no place for the children of aristocrats," Enjolras agreed. "Did he really not understand what I said?"

"He understands enough to know he could get me in trouble with his father."

"Mmm," Enjolras made a soft sound of understanding. "Come when you can, but stay cautious, Mademoiselle Feuilly. There is much at stake for us right now."

He is always so serious, Gabrielle thought.

Enjolras soon interrupted the others and reminded them that they needed to be going. They said polite goodbyes and continued through the park.

"Back to work," Gabrielle said, and settled back down on the blanket, handing each child their slate.

Louisa scooted closer to Gabrielle and leaned in, a bright smile on her face. "Mademoiselle Feuilly! That Monsieur Enjolras is very handsome." Her little face was pink and she giggled.

Gabrielle laughed and pinched her cheeks. "Why, Louisa!" She leaned closer and whispered in her ear. "I have to say I agree, my darling, but he is also very serious." She screwed up her face and narrowed her eyes in her best impression of Enjolras and the little girl giggled and fell over dramatically.

It was days like today, Gabrielle reflected, that she didn't really mind her job as a governess.

**

The next week, Gabrielle was able to sneak away to the Café Musain again. She made it upstairs just in time to see Enjolras beginning an impassioned speech to his friends. He stood on a table in the corner in order to be seen by all, and his eyes blazed as he spoke. Gabrielle glanced around to find her brother, and spying him on the other side of the room, slowly made her way over. She whispered hello, tucking her hand into the crook of his arm, and turned her attention back to Enjolras.

"My friends, General Lamarque is the only government official that is on the side of the people. He is the only one who sees the suffering as we do every day – the children running barefoot through the streets, learning that thievery is a better way to survive than hard work. For what will hard work get them, I ask? Nothing," he emphasized. "For there are no jobs. France is suffering as prices, rent and taxes steadily rise. All while our good king Louis-Phillippe sits on his throne growing fatter and richer at the expense of our people. This injustice is not to be borne!" he roared.

Gabrielle felt a chill go through her body as she watched him. He was absolutely amazing – no wonder these men looked to him for leadership. He was a natural and came alive as he spoke. Where was the usually quiet, reserved, and stoic young man who sat in the corner and observed? He was gone, replaced by this golden Apollo, a mythic figure come to life as he spoke of the things that made the blood sing in his veins. At that moment, Gabrielle would have gladly taken up arms and followed him into battle, as would every other person in the room. They all shook their fists in approval and hung on his every word.

Towards the end of his speech, Enjolras lowered his voice and there was a collective breath that ran through the room, everyone leaning in to better hear, just as he wanted. He looked at each person in turn, holding their gaze with his icy blue eyes, and seemed to see into their very souls. "Soon, the time will come for us to take action. Soon, we will free our glorious nation from the hands which have stolen her from us, and the blood that was spilled two years ago will be avenged. Soon, the people will rise! Vive le France!"

Cheers and chanting reverberated through the room and Gabrielle found herself cheering and clapping just as wildly as the rest of them. Enjolras jumped down from the table, shaking hands and graciously accepting the accolades that came his way. Gabrielle couldn't help but feel that she was watching someone who was going to go down in history. He should be the subject of a painting, looking just as he looked now – shirt open, cravat loose, disorderly curls, and eyes that could see the future. Surely, in five hundred years, this man would have his name written in every history book read by children throughout the world, an Alexander for the new age – the man who would bring about the final, and real, French Revolution.

An hour or so later, the meeting had mostly cleared out, except for the few core members of the Les Amis de l'ABC, and Gabrielle. She was too in awe of Enjolras to speak to him tonight, and sat with her brother at a table by the window.

"Enjolras was marvelous tonight, wasn't he?"

"He was in rare form," Feuilly agreed. "He told me they saw you in the park with the de Sauveterre children last week. He seemed concerned about the boy?"

"He followed me here one night. He is full of trouble," Gabrielle said fondly. "He heard Enjolras speak and claims he did not understand, but I think he understands enough."

Feuilly frowned and took her hand. "Gabrielle, though I enjoy seeing you here, I do not want trouble for you. We can go elsewhere and see each other."

Gabrielle squeezed his hand. Her brother had always been her only protector. "Alexandre, I do not come to these meetings just to see you. I share your views, and believe in your cause, and I have to admit, the thought of a revolution is rather thrilling."

Feuilly frowned deeper. "Do you truly understand what a revolution would mean?"

"Do you?"

"Yes, I do, Gabrielle," Feuilly explained patiently. "I'm not so sure all of the Les Amis do, but I know I am willing to lay down my life in the name of progress and equality. Combeferre believes in progress through peace, but Enjolras...he says there is a battle coming. He can feel it in his veins, and I will follow him into that battle."

Even as Feuilly spoke the words with conviction, Gabrielle had a hard time truly believing them. She tried to picture her brother shooting a musket, but the image of him with a paintbrush, bent over his beautiful fans, played instead.

She said nothing for a while, then sighed. "I almost envy you...the adventure of it. Taking up arms to fight for justice, like the Americans in their revolution. You will be real heroes, the kind people write about in novels."

"We are no heroes, Mademoiselle Feuilly." Gabrielle jumped as Enjolras suddenly appeared at her side. "You are romanticizing revolution, when in reality many of us will not come out alive. There is nothing romantic about that."

She gazed up at him, at his marble exterior and calm facade, and felt she could almost call his bluff. "You long for your revolution, Monsieur. You romanticize it, too, in your own way. Just because you understand the risks does not mean your heart does not beat wildly in pleasure when you think of taking up arms to fight for your beloved Patria."

Enjolras pulled up a chair to join their conversation and Gabrielle felt a little triumphant that he was paying attention to her again. She knew she was developing a ridiculous fascination with the man, but really, who could help it? He sometimes seemed to shine with a sort of ethereal, holy light.

He regarded her evenly, contemplating her words. "Perhaps that is romanticizing. I think of it more as a calling, Mademoiselle."

"I regard that as rather the same thing," she said quickly. "And I do think it is your calling, Monsieur Enjolras. After seeing you speak tonight, I gladly would take up arms and follow your lead." She blushed a bit at that last statement.

Feuilly rubbed his forehead uncomfortably and said sheepishly, "My sister has a rather vivid imagination, as you can tell, Enjolras."

Gabrielle glared at him, her temper rising. "Why should I not be able to fight as well as you? You've never wielded a gun before, Alexandre. I could learn as quickly, and be just as able."

If Enjolras was capable of looking amused, Gabrielle imagined he looked it now. "Indeed, Mademoiselle? We have spoken of women being the equal of men before. I would not turn you away from the fight if you were to join," he said seriously.

Gabrielle resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at her brother in triumph and she did feel rather smug at Enjolras' admission. "Thank you, Monsieur. I appreciate that your actions would match your words."

Feuilly looked as if he wanted to say more, but Gabrielle rose. "I do need to be going, though, it is late."

Enjolras rose and looked hesitatingly at Feuilly. "Will you accompany your sister home, Feuilly?"

"Yes," he said curiously, "unless you will do the job for me? It is on the way to your apartment, after all." He looked incredulous, and Gabrielle felt a thrill again. She knew Enjolras did not usually pay attention to women, and yet he was offering to walk her home. She would be the envy of every woman downstairs in the tavern.

"If you do not mind, Mademoiselle?" Enjolras asked politely.

"No, not at all. Thank you, Monsieur Enjolras."

Enjolras offered her his arm and they made their way through the room. Gabrielle could feel the men's eyes on her back and she had a feeling they would tease Enjolras mercilessly tomorrow. He either didn't care or didn't realize, and paid no attention to them as they left the café.

She told him the baron's address and they began walking.

"Am I truly on your way home, Monsieur, or are you just being a gentleman?"

Enjolras glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and told her his address. "I am not going out of my way, Mademoiselle Feuilly."

"Oh. Well, that's good..." Her voice trailed off awkwardly and the sudden silence of the still night compared to the café rendered them silent, as well. Gabrielle didn't know what else to say. Suddenly, Enjolras spoke.

"I heard from a source today that General Lamarque is ill."

Gabrielle glanced up at him, realizing how tall he was now that she was walking right next to him. "How ill?"

"I do not know. It seems as if he has been struck with cholera. I'd imagine it is serious."

Gabrielle frowned. She didn't really know what that would mean for his cause – would it incite fire into the hearts of the people or would losing their champion have the opposite effect? "What do you think that will mean, Monsieur?"

He let her question linger for a while, their footfalls echoing silently on the pavement. Finally, he said, "I believe it could be the impetus I have been waiting for."

She stopped walking and he turned to look at her. She was once again struck by his beauty as a lone streetlamp shined down on his hair, turning it golden in the light. She looked at him a little too long and blushed, averting her eyes. "And you will fight? Your friends will fight?"

"I will fight, yes. I believe my friends will, although I do not know if all of them truly realize it yet. Sometimes, I think this is all fun and games to them," he said disdainfully.

"Not every man has that calling, Monsieur, that we spoke of earlier. Not all are as selfless or brave."

He frowned, always so serious and self-effacing. "I do not think myself brave, Mademoiselle Feuilly. Others should not think so, either."

Gabrielle smiled and continued walking, taking his arm again. "Perhaps not, but they do. And they will continue to think so. You have a natural charm, and I believe you do know this. I believe men are not made leaders, but born so. You were born to lead these men."

This time it was Enjolras who stopped and looked at her. "You think too much of me." For the first time since she'd met him, Gabrielle heard the slightest twinge of doubt in voice. It made him seem more man than God.

"Your modesty does you credit, Monsieur."

Enjolras hesitated for a moment, then said quietly, "You may call me Antoine, if you prefer, Mademoiselle."

Gabrielle felt another spark of excitement run through her, but she tried to to hide her feelings behind a calm exterior like his. "Then you may call me Gabrielle."

He smiled, or what passed for a smile for him, and they walked in companionable silence all the way to the de Sauveterre house.

"This is it," Gabrielle said quietly as they approached, and Enjolras looked up at the towering structure with disdain.

"So few people, yet so much space. Wasteful," he commented, and Gabrielle had to admit she agreed. She had never seen the point in having so many bedrooms the furniture had to be covered with sheets just to keep the dust off.

"Yes, well. They keep me employed, so I will not complain."

"Thank you for letting me walk you home. I enjoy your conversation, Gabrielle." Enjolras looked a little uncomfortable as he spoke, and Gabrielle took that as a good sign.

"And I yours. I will see you at your meeting next week?" she asked uncertainly, and he nodded.

"You are always welcome."

Gabrielle reached out and touched his arm in farewell, and he continued down the street. She watched him for a moment, then called softly and unexpectedly, "Antoine!" He turned back to look at her. She didn't know exactly what she wanted to express, so she said the closest thing she could think of. "Be careful."

He smiled and turned, continuing on his way. Gabrielle had a feeling his glorious revolution was almost upon him.


	3. Chapter III

Gabrielle was no longer allowed to take the children outdoors. Cholera was spreading through the city, and the baron wanted his children as minimally exposed as possible. As the days grew warmer, the children became more irritable, having to sit inside the stuffy rooms for lessons and for play time. The baron didn't even want them going into the garden, and Gabrielle had to cede to his wishes, even if she thought he was a little too overzealous. She hadn't been able to do much of anything lately, either; even her own writing was forgotten, stuffed under her pillow. She had sent her brother a brief note, apologizing for her absence and urging for news, but so far, there had been no reply.

Of course, not even the fear of cholera could keep the baron from having a dinner party, however, and Gabrielle was instructed to have the children ready to make an appearance sharply at seven o'clock. Louisa would recite her Italian and play the piano. Just the thought of it made the little girl quake with fear, for she hated being the center of attention, and Gabrielle tried to re-assure her.

"Louisa, you are so good at the piano! You will dazzle them. And your Italian? It is flawless, my love."

Louisa's lip trembled. "What if I make a mistake? Hit a false note?"

Gabrielle knelt down and took the little girl's hands. "If you make a mistake, you simply keep going. Everyone makes mistakes, Louisa. No one is perfect."

"But I will get too scared and forget my place..."

"Well...then if you make a mistake, you must simply count to ten, very slowly, in your mind. And think of nothing else but the counting. And then, when you've counted to ten, take a deep breath and keep going. Can you try that for me?"

Louisa nodded, still looking doubtful, and Gabrielle stood up, straightening her dress. She gestured Armand forward and down the stairs and took Louisa's hand. The dinner guests were in the parlour, and Gabrielle and the children entered promptly at seven, just as the baron had requested. She ushered Louisa forward and faded into a corner, sitting demurely on a chair. None of the guests took notice of her.

Louisa recited her Italian flawlessly and answered polite questions about her studies from some of the ladies before sitting at the piano. She played slowly and a bit clumsily, but didn't make any major mistakes, and her wide smile at the end almost made Gabrielle forget her place and cheer. Louisa retreated to her side once she was finished, and Armand sat near his father, listening to his conversation with the other men.

Gabrielle wondered when the baron would excuse them, but her ears perked up when she caught their conversation.

"It seems that the cholera has not just brought disease to the city," an elderly gentleman commented disdainfully, "but now I am hearing talk of riots. Will the people never be satisfied with what they have?"

"General Lamarque has them up in arms with his illness," the baron said. "He is popular with the people. The king should beware or we will have another successful uprising on our hands. I have contemplated leaving the city for the summer..."

Gabrielle winced. If the baron left, then she would have to leave, too. She would miss all of the excitement. If the baron and the rest of the bourgeois were speaking of the possibility of uprisings, then surely it would happen soon.

"Ha! Do not let them chase you out of the city. Stay where you are, the trash on the street will soon be silenced. The king will not stand for this."

"I hear they want a revolution," Armand suddenly spoke and Gabrielle froze, praying that he would say nothing else.

The baron smiled sardonically at his son. "And where do you hear this, Armand?"

"I pay attention," Armand said confidently. "I may have even heard a man give a speech about it once!"

Several of the ladies had stopped their conversation and were listening to the men. They looked scandalized at Armand's comments and the baron was trying very hard to control his temper.

"Is that so?" he asked quietly. "That certainly did not happen on my watch." He never looked at Gabrielle, but she could feel his accusation from across the room. "I think, children, it is past your bedtime. Now excuse yourselves and make your way upstairs."

Armand glared, but obeyed, and bid the guests goodnight. Gabrielle followed the children, her heart pounding. She knew Armand hadn't meant anything by his remarks, but the baron had her in his sights now. There were only so many people who were ever in the company of his children.

When they entered the nursery, Armand turned to her. "I didn't say your name, Mademoiselle Feuilly. I made sure of that. I don't want to get you in trouble."

Gabrielle forced a smile and patted his shoulder, then turned sober. "It's alright, Armand. But your father certainly wasn't happy, and I wouldn't mention this to him again. This is a very serious matter..." Gabrielle trailed off. She knew she wouldn't be able to make a nine year old child understand the gravity of the situation, so there was really no point in trying.

He nodded and shrugged. Gabrielle bid goodnight to the children as their nurse came in and retreated to her own bedroom. She sat in a chair by the window and looked out at the still night. For the first time, she was beginning to feel nervous.

**

In two days, both of the children were sick with cholera, despite all of the baron's strict precautions. Gabrielle was not allowed contact with them and was worried incessantly for their well being. She had nothing to do without their lessons to occupy her time, and hadn't seen her brother in what felt like ages. Her anxiety had continued to climb, along with the temperatures in the city. There was a rising tide of discontent it seemed that everyone sensed, like Paris was holding its breath waiting for the first blow to fall. Gabrielle left the baron's house in the afternoon of May 31st and walked to her brother's shop, which she was surprised to find empty and closed. That was unusual, and worrisome.

She slowly wandered the streets, hoping to hear some sort of news or find a familiar face, but after an hour, nothing had turned up. She turned onto the Rue de la Chanvrerie off of the Rue Saint-Denis and walked towards the Café Musain. The upstairs window was open and she could see the room was crowded with men. She caught sight of Prouvaire through the window and went into the café and up the stairs.

The men had just arrived, and there were many faces Gabrielle didn't recognize. She squeezed through the crowd, hardly any of them even giving her a second glance, and suddenly felt hands on her arms. "Gabrielle! I was just coming to see you."

She turned to look into her brother's face. He was grinning widely and seemed excited. He pulled her into a less crowded corner and spoke. "We've just had a rally in front of General Lamarque's home. It seems he has taken a turn for the worst. The whole city seems ready to rally." Feuilly was animated, his eyes twinkling and his voice louder than normal.

"So the time is coming soon, then?" Gabrielle asked, surprised at the edge of fear she heard in her voice.

"Yes, I believe so...Enjolras says he is waiting for a sign, a decisive moment that will tell him we are ready to take up arms and fight."

"What sort of sign?"

Feuilly shrugged. "I do not know. I think the men in this room would fight right now, though, were he to ask. Except Grantaire." Gabrielle followed Feuilly's eyes over her shoulder and noticed Monsieur Grantaire slumped over in a chair, snoring loudly. "How can he sleep through this?" He turned his attention back to Gabrielle. "How is it you are able to be here on a Thursday afternoon?"

"Both of the children are sick with the cholera. They came down with it yesterday," she replied. "I'm worried, but I needed to find out the news."

Feuilly clicked his tongue sympathetically. "That is awful...but I am sure they are being cared for by the best doctors that money can buy."

Gabrielle agreed and jumped when a sudden shout went up through the crowd. She turned around to see Enjolras standing on a chair, his hand in the air calling for silence. It took a minute, but the men's fervor finally died down a bit as they waited to hear what he had to say.

"We have been told that General Lamarque is ill," he began softly, and Gabrielle strained to hear. "Thousands throughout the city are sick with cholera. No one is there to care for them. Walk through the streets of Saint Michel and see the bodies being carried away. It is a crime against humanity, my brothers, that the poor are stuck here to rot while the rich are free to escape the plague of the city, running away to the fresh air. Running away from the rising anger they feel from us." The men cheered and Enjolras took a breath, his chest heaving with emotion. He was in his element, the marble lover of liberty, beautiful and terrifying all at once.

"Time has a price we cannot afford! The walls we build close in, my brothers! Will you let yourself be distracted by the glittering jewels of the bourgeois, by the beating drums, and the glare of the sun on our backs? In your heart, do you feel fear? Do you cower away from the bright light of revolution, of liberty, or do you strain towards it, ever reaching and hopeful? It is time for us all to decide who we are, to stand, to rise! The world is on fire, my friends, and we will blaze with it, sweeping that fire through the streets of Paris, through France, and leaving behind a free land in its wake!"

Gabrielle took her brother's arm as the crowd surged forward, and he put his arm around her shoulders. "Perhaps you shouldn't be here?" He practically had to yell in her ear to be heard.

"Where else would I be, Alexandre?" She grinned, feeling invigorated. "This is an exciting time!"

Her brother introduced her to some of their newer recruits, including a handsome young man named Marius Pontmercy who had joined their cause in recent months. Gabrielle could tell he came from money by his rich clothing, though her brother claimed her had renounced his family's wealth and wouldn't take a cent from them, living in a broken down tenement somewhere. Gabrielle felt impressed by his dedication.

As the evening wore on, the crowd eventually died out, and Feuilly left to walk his sister home.

She promised to come back when she could, and they parted outside the front gate.

As soon as Gabrielle entered through the servant's door in the back, she could sense something was wrong. The air felt heavy and the house too quiet, and she immediately felt an uneasy lump form in her stomach. She cautiously walked through the house and stopped in front of the parlour door, which was firmly closed. It was never closed. She heard footsteps behind her and turned. The children's nursemaid was just coming down the stairs, her eyes red and heavy from crying.

"What has happened?" Gabrielle whispered.

The nurse held a handkerchief to her eyes and dabbed. "Mademoiselle Louisa has gone home to God," she said softly, and burst out into a fresh fit of tears.

Gabrielle took a step back, her hand flying to her mouth. She had never expected...had never thought...

The nurse passed by her and Gabrielle stood frozen. She wasn't sure how long she stood in the hallway, but her trance was finally broken by the clock striking eight times, and she moved in a daze upstairs to her bedroom. She laid down on her bed fully clothed, her eyes painfully dry, and tried to fathom why a merciful God would take an innocent little girl. Eventually, she fell into a fitful sleep.

**

When she awoke the next morning, the house was still eerily quiet. Everyone had entered into mourning, and Gabrielle wondered if Armand had survived the night. She desperately hoped he had.

She rose and freshened up before descending the stairs. There was absolutely no one around, and the parlour door was still firmly closed. Gabrielle wondered if the baron had shut himself up in the room with his daughter's body, and her thoughts were confirmed when she entered the kitchen, where she also learned that Armand was still clinging to life.

She didn't feel right leaving the house, and wandered back upstairs to her bedroom, where she spent the day in a melancholy spirit, staring out of the window listlessly. The energy that had invaded her body yesterday at the Café Musain had drained out of her at the news of Louisa's death. She only went back downstairs for a late supper, and to see if anything else had happened today out on the streets.

When she entered the kitchen, the cooks were gossiping quietly at the table and Gabrielle fixed her own small supper. Before she went back upstairs, she asked softly, "Have you heard news today? Has anything happened in the city?"

They stopped their conversation and one said sadly, "Yes, Mademoiselle. General Lamarque died this afternoon. We heard the news from the butler next door, who heard it from their errand boy earlier this evening."

Gabrielle froze, her blood turning to ice. "General Lamarque is dead?"

The ladies nodded, and one said timidly, "Are you alright, Mademoiselle? You look as if you've suddenly seen a ghost..."

"My brother," she said without thinking, "he will be ready to fight..." She realized what she had just let slip out and stopped, biting her lip. You stupid girl! She shouted in her head. How could you tell them that? Soon every servant on the street will know!

The cooks didn't respond and Gabrielle quickly went back upstairs, where she hastily ate her dinner. She debated on whether or not to go to the café, but finally decided it was worth the risk. What if the fighting began tomorrow and she didn't have time to speak to her brother first? God, what if I never see him again? She wondered, suddenly horrified. The reality was finally sinking in, and Gabrielle hurried from the house, hailing a fiacre to take her to the Musain.

She ran up the stairs breathlessly and burst into the room. There were arms and ammunition everywhere, the men loading muskets and pistols and looking like they were having a perfectly normal good time.

"Mademoiselle Feuilly?" Enjolras appeared at her side.

"Hello, Monsieur," Gabrielle turned and managed a small smile. "I see your revolution is finally beginning."

Enjolras seemed to grow taller as he took a breath and rolled his sleeves up. "At last." He paused for a moment, then took her arm and led her back downstairs. "Your brother is down here this evening, Mademoiselle, if he is still here...he talked of going to find you earlier."

As they descended the stairs, Gabrielle scanned the room and saw her brother in the corner. "Alexandre!"

Feuilly looked up and saw his sister, a warm smile spreading across his face. "I was wondering if we would see you here tonight." He frowned as he took in Gabrielle's expression. "Come, Gabrielle, what is wrong? You aren't suddenly afraid of our revolution, are you? You, who wanted to fight with us before?"

"Of course I am afraid. Any sensible person would be. And..." she swallowed around the lump in her throat. "Louisa de Sauveterre is dead."

Her brother's face fell and he quickly reached out and pulled her into a hug. "I'm so sorry, Gabrielle. That is horrible news, to hear of one so young being taken so soon."

"I'm very sorry to hear that as well, Gabrielle." Gabrielle raised her eyes to see Enjolras still standing with them. "The cholera is taking many victims this year."

Gabrielle forced a smile. "Thank you both. I am fine, really, just sad. And worried, if I must admit it."

"This is where I must leave you," Enjolras said. "It has been a pleasure as always, Gabrielle."

"Good night, Antoine." Gabrielle watched him go back up the stairs and then turned back to find her brother gazing at her in disbelief. "What?" she asked innocently.

"Did you just call him Antoine?"

"That is his name, is it not?"

Feuilly cleared his throat and said nothing for a moment, then took her hand and began leading her to the door. "Let us talk outside Gabrielle, away from this crowd and noise."

Once they were outside, Feuilly turned to face her and took a deep breath. "Gabrielle, I don't quite know what to say...the fight is going to begin in a few days..."

"When?"

"At General Lamarque's funeral. That's when Enjolras has it planned."

"Oh." Gabrielle nodded and steeled herself. "When will it be?"

"June 5th. Just a few days. And we're going to be quite busy until then, Gabrielle, and..." he hesitated, as if knowing she was going to protest, "I think you should stay away from here on out." He held up a hand as she opened her mouth to argue and said gently, "Please, Gabrielle, listen."

She closed her mouth and nodded tersely, staring at the ground.

"I know you spoke to Enjolras about fighting with us, I remember, and I didn't take it seriously at the time, though I wouldn't really put it past you. Please promise me, Gabrielle, that you will not come here. I don't even want you to leave the house until all of this is over."

She raised her eyes, pleading with him. "And what about you? I am just supposed to sit back and wait and wonder while my only family is..." she couldn't finish the thought.

"You have to," Feuilly said quietly. "I need to know you are safe. I have fought to give you a better life, and I do not want you throwing it away for my sake."

"I wouldn't be throwing it away. I would be fighting for the same reasons you are!"

"Still." Feuilly sighed and said seriously, "I have already made Enjolras promise not to let you near anyway. He agreed with me, so there is no use going to him to try to intercede."

Gabrielle frowned. "It will kill me to not know what is happening to you."

"And if I die, I die knowing you are safe, which means I die happy." Feuilly smiled and took her hands.

Gabrielle's eyes filled with tears. "Please don't talk of dying. What would I do without you?"

Feuilly reached up and brushed her tears away. "You will be fine. You are smart and resourceful. You are beautiful. You will find every happiness, Gabrielle." She suddenly felt a small purse being thrust into her hands. "Here, take this. This is all the money I have saved."

"No, Alexandre, that is too final. You are already talking like a condemned man!" She pushed it back at him, but he firmly held her hand closed around it.

"Then you are keeping it safe for me until everything is over," he said softly. "Please take it, Gabrielle."

She nodded slowly and swiped at her tears. She hated crying. "Alright."

Feuilly took a deep breath, fighting emotion himself, and pulled her gently to him. He kissed the top of her head and said softly, "You are the most wonderful sister a man could ask for. And now you need to go."

Gabrielle could hear the emotion in his voice, and she knew he didn't want her to see him cry. She nodded and reached up, kissing his cheek gently. "I love you, Alexandre. Please stay safe for me."

He squeezed her hands and pulled away, looking at her for a lingering moment before turning and going back into the café. Gabrielle watched until he disappeared and then slowly turned, her steps echoing in the empty street. She looked over her shoulder to see the lights of Musain burning brightly on the pavement. Enjolras stood in the window on the second floor, his arms crossed over his chest, and watched her go. Their eyes met and he raised a hand in a silent goodbye. She managed a small smile before turning away again. Good luck, Monsieur...


End file.
